


Got Your Chemicals All in My Veins (You're To Blame)

by pandame (wasted_wallflower)



Series: Contamination And It's Side Effects [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Anal Sex, Andorian Imperial Guard outfits are leather top culture, Archer’s INTO it, Cultural Differences, Dubious Consent (due to sex pollen), Hair Pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Shran is an aggressive top, Talas ships it, discussions of polyamory, they try to work it out and make it as consensual as possible though, unrealistic refractory periods, you can fight me if you think differently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_wallflower/pseuds/pandame
Summary: The room was hot, far too hot for Shran to be comfortable, and apparently, for Archer as well. The (fucking moronic) pinkskin had turned even pinker, a deep red flush crawling up his neck and to the tips of his ears, and Shran fiercely reminded himself that he did not want to see how far that blush extended. He. Did. Not.This entire mess was Archer’s fault. Shran wasn’t going to think about him, excluding the multiple, satisfying scenarios in which he could finally kill the idiot.Shran and Archer are contaminated with sex pollen. It goes about as well as expected.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer/Thy'lek Shran, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Contamination And It's Side Effects [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919746
Comments: 23
Kudos: 69





	Got Your Chemicals All in My Veins (You're To Blame)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oliveotter413](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveotter413/gifts).



> This is for you Beebs since you've never seen Star Trek, so here's some porn as an early birthday gift. 
> 
> I’ve been watching Enterprise during tHeSe UnPrEcEdENteD TiMeS, and Archer/Shran is a ship that took me by surprise and which I quickly grew to love. I haven’t seen all of it yet, so apologies ahead of time if either Shran or Archer seem OOC. While this fic has no official timeline in the series, you may consider it around s2 or s3 during the Xindi story arc (canonically, episode 3x10 introduces Talas, but for this story, she and Shran had been involved in a _consensual_ friends-with-benefits relationship prior to her introduction, so none of the dubious consent associated with Shran’s “arrest her” vs. “mate with her” dilemma exists). 
> 
> As far as Andorian biology goes, I envision Andorians to be similar to humans physiologically, save for the antenna on their heads, and some exoskeleton on areas in need of protection (i.e., abdomen). I chose not to have them have a complete exoskeleton, as it seems bizarre to me that species covered in exoskeleton would not hibernate in a place as cold as Andoria. Their antenna are quite sensitive, and Andorian “kisses” involve touching antenna together, but lip-to-lip contact is seen as pleasurable. I hope this clarifies any issues that may arise. 
> 
> Trigger warning: there is one scene wherein the consent is very dubious, and Shran acts aggressively towards Archer, who matches him. I intended to write it as though it were hate-sex; however, I will note it with a +/- sign to indicate where the scene starts and finishes if you would prefer to skip it.

The first thing Shran noticed, outside of the blinding need that currently occupied his brain, was that it was dark, and he was not alone. He could hear stifled breathing, the type that one would undergo when they needed to remain calm, and then a hoarse voice spoke, breaking the silence with raspy constants and drawn-out vowels.

“Shran, are you alright?”

Archer. Of course.

Shran grit his teeth, trying not to let out a yell, or worse - a moan. He was already envisioning what Archer’s voice would sound like when aroused, all broken gasps and syrupy-sweet sighs and murmurs of his name. _ShranShranShran._ He shuddered.

The movement did not go undetected by his companion, who moved closer in an unnecessary effort to provide some comfort. The pinkskins were so affectionate with their touch; they touched wherever they could reach, on the shoulder, legs, hands, head like it was _nothing_. He did not know what he would do if Archer were to touch him. Ideally, he would break his fragile, flesh-covered arm, but they were not in an ideal situation.

The stupid pinkskin had gone “poking his nose” (as the Terran expression said) into where it did not belong, touched a vase containing _saf_ 1, and spilled it. Shran tackled him, desperately hoping that some of the saf had not touched Archer’s uniform. He was wrong - not only had Archer gotten it on his uniform, but he had also gotten it on Shran.

They had beamed up to medical shortly after, where he dealt with the increasingly invasive questions of the Denobulan doctor _(Phlox, a voice that sounded like Archer reminded him)_ , before finally admitting that they were both contaminated with _saf_. While Shran usually would have relished the look of surprise on a Denobulan’s face (they tended to be “stuffy know-it-alls”), the _saf_ had already begun to take effect, and his superior reasoning had started to falter.

“ _Saf_ may not be an aphrodisiac for humans,” Phlox said with his usual insufferable cheeriness. Shran wanted to punch him. “Regardless, I can’t have you two contaminating the rest of the crew. You’ll have to quarantine together, come with me.”

Archer sputtered in his uniquely indignant way, but acquiesced, assuring Shran that _it won’t be that bad, I’ll be immune and prevent you from hurting yourself,_ and the number of people Shran wanted to punch increased from one to two.

They were both wrong. Humans and Andorians were, unfortunately, similar enough.

The room was hot, far too hot for Shran to be comfortable, and apparently, for Archer as well. The _(fucking moronic)_ pinkskin had turned even pinker, a deep red flush crawling up his neck and to the tips of his ears, and Shran fiercely reminded himself that he did not want to see how far that blush extended. _He. Did. Not._

This entire mess was Archer’s fault. Shran wasn’t going to think about him, excluding the multiple, satisfying scenarios in which he was finally able to kill the idiot. The idea of facing him in the _Ushaan_ brought vicious pleasure, yet even that had started to grow tiring after his visions became progressively more violent. He glanced again at Archer, noticing his clenched fists, modulated breathing and hair askew, and something like sympathy (which was incredibly uncharacteristic for a member of the Imperial Guard of his standing) unfurled in his chest. _Saf_ was important in _shelthreth_ 2, as increasing desire amongst each member increased the chances of contraception, and that all-consuming need was perhaps _more intense_ for humans.

“Fuck.” Archer muttered, along with a few Terran words that were unintelligible. He ran his hands through his hair, and Shran bit his lip, willing himself not to react to the obscene gesture. It did not work.

“Can you please do _that_ elsewhere?” He hissed. Archer looked up in surprise, his pupils dilated. Whatever remained of his hazel irises was a thin ring surrounding a pool of wanton black, his desire so starkly evident that Shran felt exposed and weak under the sheer force of it.

“Do what?” Annoyance crept into his tone. “I haven’t done _anything_.”

“You kept touching yourself in front of me. It’s obscene, just turn around and take care of yourself.” He resisted the urge to add “unless you want me to take care of it for you.”

“I’m running my hands through my hair, Shran. It’s not obscene.” Archer sounded baffled.

“Maybe not to humans, but it’s an intimate gesture on Andoria.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Comprehension flitted across Archer’s face, his features indicating a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

“So whenever I do this,” he ran his hands through his dark hair, “it’s akin to masturbation?”

Shran frowned at the unfamiliar word, and not for the first time; he wished that Archer spoke Andorian. The Universal Translator3 could be so inadequate in expressing linguistic nuances.

“Uh,” Archer had, somehow, turned redder. “You know, sexual stimulation of genitals or other erogenous zones until orgasm is reached? That’s how it occurs in humans anyway.” He trailed off, his eyes on the floor, his ears an impossible shade of pink.

“Oh,” Shran said, momentarily stunned. Pinkskins were similar to Andorians in their build. In one of his weaker moments when consuming too much Andorian ale and trying to forget about hazel-colored eyes, he searched for materials to make sense of human sexuality. They tended to mate in pairs (bizarre, but it did explain why they regarded Andorian quartets with disgusted fascination). They appeared to be quite fond of a variety of positions and usage of objects. Restaining both males and females was popular, and if Shran pictured Archer restrained with black ropes to an Earth bed, it was not something he thought about often.

“Would that help?” He regretted the question the instant it left his lips, and Archer looked at him shrewdly. “We know that _saf_ acts as an aphrodisiac, even outside of _shelthreth_ , and it’s affecting both of us. Perhaps relieving some of that tension could help.”

“Are you suggesting we masturbate?” The pinkskin was so incredulous about the thought, and Shran rolled his eyes.

“I was under the impression that you humans had little to no sexual taboos. Surely _this_ isn’t an issue for you.” He raised his hands in a mockery of a placating gesture, “If it helps, I’ll turn around.” He did so promptly, ignoring how wrong such a measure felt. He wanted to see Archer’s face!

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” The words were choked out, betraying the depth of his longing. Shran shivered, wondering how much more Archer could take before he broke. The thought did not disturb him, but rather caused his blood to run downwards, arousal settling hot and heavy in his veins.

“You won’t.” He lied.

That was all it took. He heard Archer settle onto his knees, his breathing unsteady, and closed his eyes; to observe such a private moment seemed like a betrayal. It was unfortunate that his external sex organ - cock, Archer would have called it - was not getting the message; it pulsed between his thighs, hot and demanding. He ignored it.

A gasp filled the room, along with the slick sounds of flesh meeting flesh. A steady stream of muffled moans emerged, and Shran tightened his grip on his legs, disregarding his desire to see what other types of sounds Archer could make under his ministrations. He would be loud, Shran decided, loud and desperate. The image of Archer’s skin flushed red underneath him, of his pale legs thrown over his shoulders, his voice begging for _moremoremore_ was intoxicating. Shran rested his head between his thighs, breathing deeply.

Archer finished abruptly in what Shran perceived as an alarmingly short amount of time for a pink- human - of his age. He did not scream, unlike what his previous research suggested would happen, but instead sighed softly, which made the moment all the more intimate.

His suggestion, he realized with dawning horror, _was a horrible one_.

 _Saf's_ aphrodisiac properties would not lessen with the aid of masturbation; it was designed for conception after all, and any attempts at relieving arousal would increase its effects.

They needed to fuck.

“Shran, er, did you … finish?” Archer’s voice was shy. Shran wanted to shake him, wanted to yell at him, and wanted to ask how he could be so timid at a time like this.

“No.” He spit out the word. “It won’t help.”

“What do you mean? I feel better.”

Shran sighed, mentally steadying himself. “It won’t help because _saf's_ properties are designed for conception. For it to “get out of our system,” to use the Terran expression, we would need to engage in something similar to _shelthreth_.” He looked up at Archer’s confused face, and the small amount of fortitude that he had managed to put together instantly fell apart.

“For _Uzaveh's_ sake, _pinkskin_ ” The pejorative came out sharply, cutting through the air like a physical blow. Archer flinched, the insult clear. “ _We need to fuck._ ”

There was silence.

“What?” He snapped, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Does the idea of us fucking disgust you?”

“No, of course not!” There was a certain cadence, more like a hitch, in Archer’s tone that let some of his arousal come through. Shran bit his lip hard, the sting of blood numbing any responding lust from dictating his actions, which mainly consisted of wanting to throw the other man to the ground and fuck him. He could imagine the heat from Archer’s warmer body, the tightness, the decadent drag in and out him, and his cock throbbed.

“I just, I don’t want to cause any friction between you and Talas.” Archer had become quiet, contemplative in thought, or guilt.

“What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“I know that you and Talas are involved with one another, and I don’t want to come between that. I doubt she would be pleased by us acting on these impulses.” His generous, blush-pink mouth had turned into a grimace that marred his handsome yet alien face.

 _Stupid pinkskins,_ Shran thought with no small amount of anger. Both his right eye and antennae twitched furiously.

“Talas and I have discussed my interest in you.”

And they had, after one of their more invigorating fucks. Talas gave as good as she got, not unlike how the stubborn human that plagued his thoughts would and suggested that he fuck “ _the pinkskin captain_ ” in a deliberately nonchalant tone. Her blue eyes glittered with amusement and arousal, and Shran pounced, desperate to lose himself in her. Being Talas, she didn’t drop the matter until he admitted that his feelings for the _arrogant, self-righteous pinkskin_ might have extended beyond mutual distaste, and smiled at him, thrilled.

_“Your interest in me?”_

Shran grit his teeth, hating every instant of this conversation. If Archer were Andorian, the two would already be initiating an intimate relationship, but humans liked to _talk_ about their feelings. Archer was looking at him, that damned pink blush scattered around his cheekbones and neck and ears, and _why the fuck did he look so endearing?_ Something like nausea filled his stomach, and his throat felt like sandpaper.

“I am fond of you, Archer. “ The cat was out of the bag now, to use the Terran expression. Archer’s eyes widened, and he came closer, smelling like _saf_ and something foreign and undeniably masculine. He rested his hand on Shran’s shoulder, seemingly unaware of its effect on him. Archer’s palm was big and warm, and Shran imagined it stroking his antenna, the contrasting pink on blue. He shuddered violently, and Archer stepped closer until he had crowded Shran against the wall. Somehow, he was still not close enough.

“Shran, what do you mean?” Archer’s eyes were impossibly soft. It was his fucking human compassion coming through _again_.

“Please don’t make me repeat it.” His voice cracked, steeped in embarrassment. “I wanted to show my appreciation for you through one of your stupid, inane human rituals, not like this.” His head dropped forward with a hollow thud, directly into Archer’s chest. They were _hugging_ , and the alien gesture was nice.

“Hey, look at me.” One of Archer’s ridiculously large palms had migrated under his chin, cupping it with unexpected gentleness, and pulled his face closer to his own. “Do you mean that you wanted me outside of this?”

His antennae twitched. Archer’s body was hot and solid, and he was beyond easy to continue to lean into. He could practically feel the pulsing edge of need on him, how he was hard against Shran’s thigh, but Archer did not push, like the _fucking honorable_ human he was.

“Yes,” Shran admitted. “I wanted to court you, the way that you humans do it, with your moronic dates.”

Archer huffed out a laugh, and Shran tensed, ready to flee. “Don’t make fun of me, pinkskin.” He seethed, the insult lacking bite.

“What would you have done if I was Andorian?” Archer asked. Shran smiled at him, showing far too many teeth.

“I would already have you on your back, and I would fuck you until you could barely stand.”

 _“Oh.”_ The word came out sharply like it took all of Archer’s energy to utter, and Shran found himself staring into lidded eyes with blown pupils. They were closer, their breathing unsteady, and Archer’s hand wove into his hair.

“Your hair is so soft.” He breathed. His warm hands traversed through Shran’s much lighter hair, tugging gently at the strands before stroking his antennae’s bottom. His knees buckled, and he let out a moan, mouthing along the edge of Archer’s collar. _Fucking Starfleet uniforms_ , why were they so hard to get out of? He considered killing whoever designed them, but that would have to wait until later, _much later_.

“Can I kiss you?” Desperation bled into Archer’s tone, giving it a raspiness that Shran _needed_ to hear more of.

“Yes.”

Their lips met. _So this was a human kiss._ Archer’s lips were soft, his mouth pliant under Shran’s. He kissed with self-assuredness, the type that came from having done this before, and groaned low in his throat when Shran bit his lip. They were pressed flush against each other, starting to move in a jerky, frenzied motion. Shran was pleased to discover that Archer enjoyed a particularly undulated twist of his hips (he would have to thank the Orion girl who taught him that later). He tugged experimentally at shorter, darker hair, adjusting his strength and pulling with more force until a broken moan emerged.

“I thought that running hands through your hair wasn’t pleasurable.” He stated, confused as to why Archer’s reaction was so similar to Talas’.

“I said it wasn’t akin to masturbation. I never said it wasn’t pleasurable.” Archer responded, his voice breaking off when Shran pulled it again, fascinated.

Their kisses became more intense; Archer’s tongue slipped between his lips, drawing out a sigh, and his body was warm, causing Shran to press closer against him. Archer shivered, no doubt due to the temperature gradient, and uttered a high pitched noise when Shran moved down to his neck, kissing and nibbling at the soft skin above his collar.

“Shran.” He panted, his arms clutching at Shran’s shoulders, blunt fingernails digging in as Shran bit down. _“Shran, fuck, wait. I can’t do this.”_

(+)“What? You don’t want this?” The question came out stilted, almost cold. He looked at him, at his flushed face and swollen red lips, and kissed him again, ferociously, relishing Archer’s muffled sound of surprise. He ground up against Archer’s hips, one hand pulling at his hair, the other wandering down the broad slope of his shoulders and back before resting on the generous curve of his ass.

“I can feel you, _Jonathan_.” Archer’s first name fell off his lips clumsily, the awkward Terran syllables forming sounds that no Andorian tongue meant to say. Archer looked at him, surprised, as Shran continued, “Don’t tell me you don’t want this. Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about this, about _me_. That you don’t want me to put your mouth to use, that you don’t want me inside you, that you haven’t touched yourself in _mere imitation_ of what all I can do to you -”

 _“Shut up.”_ Archer snarled, and kissed him again, gripping Shran with an impressive amount of strength for a human. They broke apart, breathing heavily. “If you’re going to talk about putting me to use, _Thy’lek,_ ” his pronunciation of Shran’s first name was broken by need, creating a low growl of a sound, _“then why don’t you fucking do it?”_

(-)Shran stared, dizzy, and not quite sure where to start. Archer was panting, longing written into that lean form that he _ached_ to touch, and some part of him whispered, _mine._ The level of possessiveness over a _human_ surprised him, and he faltered, suddenly unsure. Andorians were rough in their affections, and he was stronger than Archer. Somehow, he doubted that Archer would mind being pushed around a bit; the image of him marked with bite marks and finger-print shaped bruises of Shran’s making appeared, unbidden. He swallowed.

“Get out of your uniform.” He said, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. Archer lifted one sardonic brow and took off his shirt in a fluid movement.

He was muscular, a light pattern of golden hair dusting his chest, and Shran gawked at a body that was similar but different to his own. Archer removed his pants next - he stepped out of them neatly - and raised his hands in a mockery of the same placating gesture that Shran had done earlier. He was not wearing underwear, and his cock jutted out, the head a shade of red that looked painful, and very interested in the proceedings.

“All to your liking?” Archer said, his tone careless. Shran’s blood boiled. He smirked, pink lips exposing white teeth, “Are you going to get out of your uniform?”. His eyes glinted with mirth and then widened as Shran unceremoniously removed his shirt.

He knew that his time in the Imperial guard had resulted in his body developing a musculature that others were both envious of and desired (burns aside); however, no one had quite reacted like Archer. Who proceeded to moan and push him back against the wall, muttering, “God, you’re gorgeous” into his collarbone, and then, “Can I go down on you?”

“What?” He asked.

Archer looked up at him through his eyelashes, “I’d like to use my mouth on you. Can I?”

 _Was he going to -? Oh._ Shran thought. “Yes.” He said, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate.

Archer kissed him, sweetly this time, before making his way down Shran’s neck, mouthing against the skin there and his collarbone. He kissed down his chest, his hands roaming everywhere he could reach, and Shran begrudgingly admitted that the human proclivity towards being tactile wasn’t _awful_ , stopping above his pants’ waistline.

He looked gorgeous on his knees, his eyes glittering like Andorian ice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, I know, you’re much too honorable for that,” Shran said without thinking. Archer nipped at the muscle of his leather-clad inner thigh, amused. “Just hurry up, will you?”

“If you insist.” His pants were removed with ease, and then Archer’s mouth descended upon him, and his hips involuntarily bucked into warm, wet heat. A tongue swirled around the head, and Shran cried out, his hands weaving into Archer’s hair, pulling hard.

Archer pulled off, smirking. “You like that?” The _fucking asshole_ , just sitting there on his knees, like he didn’t know how _fucking good_ it felt, and Shran growled, pushing his head down.

“I want your mouth, Jonathan. Now put it to good use.”

“Pushy,” Archer muttered, sounding pleased. He licked up the slit, taking it back into his warm mouth, lavishing attention on the head, and taking more into his mouth at a torturously slow pace, until Shran pulled his hair again, obviously impatient.

The sight of Archer’s hollowed cheeks, his red lips around Shran’s blue cock, and the low moans he let out when Shran pulled his hair was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to make me come, and then I’m going to fuck you.” He said, batting away Archer’s hand, wandering up his thigh. “Hands behind your back.”

Archer complied instantly, and _oh, wasn’t that interesting?_ “It appears that you can take orders just as well as you give them out.” Pleased eyes looked up at him, and he pulled Archer’s hair harder. That generous mouth was sucking and licking and licking and sucking until Shran panted, and one final teasing swirl up the underside of his cock caused Shran to come with a groan, biting his lip to muffle it as he watched Archer swallow.

 _“Where did you learn that?”_ Shran demanded, acting like all his rational thought hadn’t disappeared when Archer got down on his knees.

“Starfleet.” Archer stood up, wincing slightly. “Most humans like using their mouth to make others feel good. Do Andorians not do that?”

“No. I’ve never …” he trailed off, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, and he knew that they were dark blue with mortification, “had anyone do that for me. Andorians tend to be rough.”

“So I’ve noticed. I don’t mind, though.” He pressed up against Shran, a mixture of soft skin and hard muscle underneath, and grinned, “What is it you said about fucking me, that you would do it until I could barely stand?”

Shran growled in acquiescence, pinning Archer to the ground in one fluid movement, satisfied at the slight gasp he emitted. “I did.”

Archer rolled his hips up, seeking some friction. “Do it, then. I’ll take matters into my own hands if you don’t.”

His grip tightened. “As if your hands can do what I’m going to do to you.”

He placed a thigh between Archer’s legs, relishing in the involuntary bucking of his hips, and pinched a nipple, rolling and twisting it between his fingers until Archer moaned. “I wonder if you could come from this.” At this, Archer shuddered, pressing his hips upwards, and pulled Shran’s body closer to his own. “We’ll have to try it, won’t we?”

“Thy’lek, can you just _fuck me_ already?” His blunt human fingernails scrabbled at Shran’s back, the slight sting leaving marks that Shran knew would be there for a while. He bit at Archer’s exposed neck, sucking and licking until a bruise formed, enjoying the increasingly high pitched sounds Archer made, and sat back, admiring the vivid mark against bronze skin.

“A hickey? How juvenile.” Archer said, panting.

“You like it,” Shran responded.

Archer smiled, flashing his teeth in a predator’s grin. “I’d like it better if you would fuck me.”

“Do you have anything? I’m not fucking you without lube.”

“I have something in the pocket of my uniform. Let me get it.” He squirmed against Shran’s grip, and Shran reluctantly let him go, watching his broad-shoulders, his compact torso, and his long legs move.

“Here.” Archer held a small bottle in the center of his palm, allowing Shran to take it.

“I didn’t think you’d have it.” He admitted, somewhat surprised.

Archer’s gaze was hot, and he kissed him, all teeth and tongue and promises. “I’m not going to break. Trust me, I’ve - “ He gasped as Shran kissed down his chest, his hands running along the planes of Archer’s stomach and back.

“You’ve what?” Whatever Archer’s response was going to be was lost when Shran tugged a nipple, licking along the edge of it. He pinched harder and, considering how humans enjoyed using their mouths, sucked.

 _“Fuck. Fuck. Thy’lek -”_ The Universal Translator cut out, and Shran was left with a very sensitive and very pleased (if the sounds leaving Archer’s mouth were anything to go by) human pinned beneath him. Archer grabbed his hair, encouraging him to continue, and stroked his left antennae, causing Shran to jolt, letting out a hiss of pleasure.

“You’re so pink, especially here.” He murmured, observing how red Archer’s chest had become under his ministrations, and teased his nipples until they became swollen peaks. Archer choked, his mouth opening wordlessly, his back arching off the ground, and came, grinding against Shran’s thigh.

“I think you broke me.” Archer managed to verbalize, his chest heaving. “And you haven’t even fucked me yet, are you going to -? _Oh._ ” Shran’s finger circled his hole teasingly, and much to Shran’s surprise, it was wet.

“You’re wet. Did you use your fingers and open yourself up for me, _Jonathan?_ ” His pronunciation came out as a dark purr of a sound, and Archer groaned, his head falling back.

“Yes, in the shower earlier. Just -”

“Just what?”

Archer glared at him. “I’ve come so many times thinking about you, pinning me down and fucking me senseless, and if you don’t get inside me this instant, I -” He let out one of those choked gasps as Shran added a finger inside, and hissed, “fuck, your finger’s cold.”

He was hot and tight and wet, and Shran twisted his finger upwards experimentally, reveling in Archer’s responding shout. He added another finger, giving Archer just enough time to get used to the slight burn, and pulled his hair, angling his face to meet Shran’s own.

“Tell me, does this live up to your expectations?” Archer’s eyes were a shade of hazel-black that Shran had never seen before, and he rasped out a “yes,” which turned into a sob as Shran pushed in a third finger, continuing to twist and touch that spot that Archer so thoroughly enjoyed.

As pleasing as it was to see Archer writhe beneath him overwhelmed with pleasure, Shran also wanted to fuck him, desperately. He removed his fingers, ignored Archer’s disappointed groan, and hastily opened the lube bottle, spreading some onto his hard cock, and slowly, agonizingly sunk in.

It was intense; Archer’s hips adjusted to meet his initial thrust, his legs wrapped around Shran’s waist, and his hands grabbed everywhere he could reach, roaming freely without abandon, tugging at Shran’s hair, and then, antenna.

“Are you going to move?” Archer snarled, grinding down, and leaned forward to lick Shran’s left antennae. He jolted, the clench and heat of Archer’s body feeling positively sinful, and thrust forward.

“ _Fucking Christ._ Don’t stop.” Before Shran could ponder who Christ was, Archer bit down on his antennae, and his thrusts became faster. Archer tilted his head upwards, and they met in a furious kiss, teeth clicking in a disjointed, messy manner. His hand moved downwards, and Shran stopped it, pinning both of his wrists above his head.

“You’re going to come on my cock, or not at all.” He growled into Archer’s ear, biting and sucking at the exposed skin of his throat.

“I don’t think - “ Shran cut him off with another kiss, enjoying his soft, surrendering sigh. “You can. I’ll make you.”

Archer’s gaze blazed, rolling his hips in tandem with Shran’s thrusts, his erection rubbing against Shran’s hard midsection in an attempt to gain some friction.

“Thy’lek,” his name came out as a whine, “please. Fuck me. Don’t stop, just keep fucking me like this.” The pace became faster, almost brutal, and Shran watched as Archer took it, begging for more. “I’m going to, _fuck, I’m close_ -”

“Come for me.” Shran jerked his hips, twisting the closest nipple he could reach, and Archer bowed forward, trembling as his orgasm rushed through him, painting his blue skin white, uttering obscenities that would make even the most seasoned Imperial Guard member blush.

Shran followed, drowning in pleasure that was nearly overwhelming in its intensity, and he came with a wordless cry.

They laid together, limbs intertwined, breathing the other in. Archer attempted to move, but Shran’s grip was unrelenting.

“What are you doing?”

Shran bent down, his mouth brushing the shell of Archer’s ear. “I’m not done fucking you.” He snapped his hips in an undulated twist, feeling the vibration of Archer’s responding groan travel through his body. He was already hard, flecks of come dotting his thighs.

“Besides,” he said, watching as Archer’s eyes rolled back, “ _saf_ makes refractory periods nonexistent.”

“Oh God,” Archer’s eyes met Shran’s, his gaze hazy with lust, and kissed him. “I’m going to feel you for a week, aren’t I?”

“Well, that’s the idea.”

Shran woke up, feeling deliciously sore, content, and stretched. This moment was ruined by two things: the first being that Archer was not beside him, and the second being that Phlox’s maniac smile greeted him instead.

“Commander Shran, I hope you’re doing well. If you would follow me, I have some clothes for you, and I need to take samples, just to make sure that the saf is completely out of your system.” He gestured to the door, and Shran sighed in resignation.

His uniform had been cleaned, and with the familiar fabric wrapped around him, Shran almost felt ready to see the world again - almost being the keyword. Fortunately, Phlox’s samples didn’t take too long, but he felt antsy. _Where was Archer?_

After what felt like an eternity, he rushed out, running into that damned Vulcan Science Officer, who raised a lofty eyebrow in offense. “If you’re looking for Captain Archer Commander, come with me.”

 _Fucking Vulcans_. Shran thought, seething and followed her.

Archer was not there, but to his surprise, _Talas_ was. She smiled at him reproachfully and brushed her antenna against his.

“What are you doing here?” He blurted out, instinctively switching to Andorian.

“I wanted to check in on you. Are you alright?” Her blue eyes were wide with concern.

“I’m fine, but I’m more concerned about J- Archer. I wasn’t nearly as careful with him as I should have been.” Talas’ smile grew wider at this, and _oh no_.

“So, he was good then?” She teased, and Shran groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“I’m not answering that question, Talas.”

“Pity.” Her voice took on a more indulgent tone as she continued, “since the human I was with was _very good._ ”

He looked up into her smirking face. _“What?”_

Talas shrugged, blue eyes sparkling. “The armory officer, Reed. He let me pin him against a control board; apparently, he liked that I was stronger than him, and _oh,_ do you know that humans do this thing with their mouths?”

“Yes, Talas, I know about the mouth thing,” Shran replied, amused by her excitement.

“It’s pretty nice.” She patted his cheek, pressing their antenna together, and Shran leaned into her embrace. “Now, I do believe your captain is waiting, Commander.”

The Vulcan Science officer was waiting for him outside, her lips pursed, somehow looking more uptight than he had ever seen her. They walked in silence until they reached Archer’s quarters, where she turned to face him.

“I do not like you, Commander Shran.” She stated bluntly, “I think you’re impulsive, prone to lashing out in anger, arrogant, and will ultimately hurt the Captain.” Shran opened his mouth to protest, and she held up her hand, “Allow me to finish.”

“The Captain is happy around you - he smiles 16.56% more in your presence - and with that, Enterprise as a whole runs approximately 5.43% more smoothly. Productivity levels are higher when the Captain is content.”

“Are you done?” Shran snapped. She regarded him, her gaze cool, not a single hair out of place.

“Not quite. There is one matter of importance we must discuss - your tendency to be rough.”

 _“Excuse me?”_ He snarled, angry. “What Jonathan and I do in bed is none of your business.”

“I am well aware, and I do not wish to know what you two do in your private time. However, covering the Captain in bite marks and bruises will give both you a reputation that Enterprise cannot afford. Therefore, I recommend rope if you wish to hold him down, and bite in areas unlikely to be seen - the chest or inner thigh, for example.”

That was not what he had expected. “Why are you telling me this?”

She smiled, a barely-there upturning of lips that made her look even more enigmatic. “My partner, Trip, appreciates the fact that I am 3.5 times stronger than him. However, our first attempts at coupling resulted in injury on his end and visible bruises that other Ensigns teased him about. We’ve found that rope works well for us.”

Shran stared at her.

“It’s just a suggestion, Commander.” With that, she turned and left.

_Fucking Vulcans. Honestly._

“You’re here,” Archer said. He wasn't wearing his uniform, just a shirt and pants made out of stretchy fabric, and he looked even more handsome.

“I am. Are you going to let me in?” His voice was hoarse, and he felt oddly nervous. If Archer noticed, he gave no indication, instead opting to step aside.

“So.” Archer was quiet, his eyes lowered to the ground.

“So.” Shran echoed, not daring to look at him.

“Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea from Earth, Andorian ale? It’s replicated, so I doubt it will be as good -”

“Earth tea is fine.” Shran interrupted, giving him a soft smile.

Some of the tension drained out of Archer’s body, like a string cut loose. “Good, take a seat,” he muttered, and a minute later, he came back with two cups of replicated green tea cradled in his hands.

“I added sweetner, honey, to be exact. I hope you like it.” His usual bronze face took on a death-like pallor, and his grip on his teacup was white-knuckled.

“Jonathan, are you alright?” He asked, sipping his tea first out of politeness, and then out of genuine pleasure.

“I’m surprised you came to see me.” The words quietly came out, so quietly that Shran wasn’t sure he had heard them at first.

 _“Why?”_ At Shran’s incredulous tone, Archer flinched. “Why wouldn’t I see you?”

“You have Talas, and who was I kidding? I don’t belong.” _Fuck._ Archer was upset, his mouth turned down into a grimace, and Shran shook him. _Violently._

“Jonathan Archer, you absolute _idiot_.” Archer opened his mouth to protest, and Shran shook him harder, willing him to shut up. “I know that you humans have two-partner relationships and Andorian relationships can seem odd - I’m not going to force you into that. I’m not going to force you into anything, and I’m extremely sorry if I did so during our time together when I fucked you repeatedly for five hours.”

He took a breath. “The fact is, Andorians aren’t the type to do - what’s that Terran expression? - one night stands. I care about you deeply, and while Talas still is involved in my life, and some part of me will always care about her, it’s _nothing_ to how I feel about you. You drive me insane. I wake up in the morning and think of you. I go to sleep at night and think of you, and if you want me, you foolish man, you’re welcome to have me.”

Archer stared at him, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to grit out, “I don’t share.”

The idea of some other _human_ , or worse, _alien_ touching Archer made Shran’s blood boil, anger simmering beneath his skin. “Neither do I.”

He stepped closer, touching Archer’s shirt’s neckline, pressing lightly against a mark that he had left on his collarbone. “Do you want me, Jonathan Archer?”

“Yes.” His response was immediate. “Do you want me, Thy’lek Shran?”

Shran briefly brushed his lips against Archer’s cheek, murmuring, “Yes.” He grasped Archer's shirt, balling it into his fist. “Now, how badly are you attached to this shirt?”

Archer’s eyes were heated, the meaning instantly clear. Shran ripped it, letting it fall into two neat pieces on the ground, and pushed Archer down onto his Earth bed, kissing him.

“I did affirm that I wanted you outside of this.” He muttered into Archer’s throat, kissing it gently before making his way downwards, the sounds of Archer’s gasps filling his ears.

“Let me prove it.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Saf is considered to be important in Shelthreth, and I interpreted that as it acts as an aphrodisiac. This information is taken from memory-beta.fandom (sorry memory alpha fans!) 
> 
> 2) Shlethreth is described as the Andorian mating ceremony, wherein members each of the four Andorian genders are in a betrothed quartet. Naturally, I took this to mean fucking. 
> 
> 3) The universal translator is weird time-wise since Hoshi invented it during the late 22nd century (2150s-2160s when ENT takes place), but I could never find when that date was specified, so I just assumed that it was invented prior to/around season 1 ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I am in need of a beta, so _please_ don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any criticisms regarding my writing, or if you caught any grammatical errors!


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